L.M. Everhart
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Stories (10)
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Six Thoughts That Always Hit You in the Shower
It’s strange, isn’t it? How a place meant for getting clean becomes a temple for your dirtiest thoughts. Not “dirty” as in scandalous — but the tangled, unfiltered, existential chaos that suddenly shows up when the warm water hits the back of your neck.
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in Confessions
The History of the Word “Oops”
“Oops” is the sound of humanity tripping over its own shoelaces — and pretending it was part of the plan. It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s slightly embarrassing. And we’ve all said it at least once while dropping a spoon, bumping into a stranger, or sending a text to the wrong group chat (God help you if it was the family group).
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in History
The Boy Who Chose Silver Over Gold — And Got Rich
In a grand and bustling kingdom, nestled between rolling hills and rivers, there lived a king known far and wide for his wisdom. But as wise as the king was, there was someone in his court even more renowned for intelligence—his most trusted minister.
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in Motivation
That One Cafeteria Table. AI-Generated.
They say you never forget your first heartbreak. But mine wasn’t a person—it was a cafeteria table. It sat in the far left corner of Jefferson High School’s lunchroom. Chipped on one side, uneven legs that wobbled if you leaned too hard, and a tiny sharpie heart carved into its edge. It was nothing special.
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in Confessions
Beneath the Clock That Never Ticks
The clock never ticked. Not once. Not even when the whole town held its breath waiting for it to move. The old iron timepiece above the railway station in Wetherby had been frozen at 3:17 for as long as anyone could remember. Rust clung to its hands, and vines crept along the brick wall behind it, as if nature had tried to swallow the secret whole. Some called it a broken relic. Others whispered that it was a warning.
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in Horror
The Echoes of Elmwood Diner. AI-Generated.
They say that home isn't a place, but a feeling. For me, that feeling always had a faint scent of stale coffee and sizzling bacon, echoing from the booths of Elmwood Diner. It wasn't just where I started my mornings; it's where my life, in many ways, truly began.
By L.M. Everhart6 months ago in Fiction
